


Mahal's Blessing

by Antarctica_or_bust



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Fíli and Kíli are awesome princes, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Bottom Fíli, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Developing Relationship, Dwarf Culture, Exasperated Thorin, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Drama, Fic Spans Years, Fíli and Kíli Brotherly Love, Humor, Minor Blood Kink, Oral Sex, Orc Culture, Other, POV Multiple, POV Outsider, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Rough Sex, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Thorin is a good king, Totally Consensual Crack Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:46:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctica_or_bust/pseuds/Antarctica_or_bust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fíli and Kíli are truly soul-mates, and none shall ever come between them.<br/>But they aren't each other's Ones and so they have a second name over their hearts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Mahal Makes a Choice

**Author's Note:**

> This is another prompt that got away from me, because apparently I am incapable of writing a normal Soulmate AU. However, while the pairings may be slightly weird (and I'll add in the rest of the tags when they become relevant), they are all consensual so it kind of works out.

Aulë was the Smith, the Maker, and he looked down upon his creations and saw that they were good.

He had carved his children from the rock, granting them the strength to endure the hardships of the world and the long lives of mountain stone. His dwarrows were gifted with three lifetimes of the race of mortal men in order to grow in wisdom and become masters of their crafts. Yet unlike the elves, Aulë's creations also felt the cold touch of mortality so that they would treasure more the time they had.

Aulë loved his children and named them beautiful in the way of fine-wrought steel and they loved him and called him Mahal in their tongue. Yet despite how much he wished to keep his dwarrows safe within his halls, Mahal knew he had to release them from his charge and let them live full measure on Middle Earth, for a tool that is not used might as well be broken.

But because he loved his children, Mahal granted each of them one last blessing before he cast them forth, a blessing to protect them until he could gather them back into his embrace. For each spirit that he crafted was tied deeply to another, every dwarf he ever forged was only half a pair.

The Smith marked their bodies with the sign of their soul's union and thus each dwarf was born with Mahal's blessing in runes upon their wrist. This mark existed from birth but would only appear to mortal eyes once a dwarf's match had been given breath as well, for Mahal did not want his children to pine away in futile search. Yet once visible the runes spelled the name of their umùradulganaz, the one dwarf who would always be there within their hearts and would support them, would love them, and would warm them through the darkness of the world.

So Mahal declared and so it was.

\---

His actions were right and they were good and they lasted through the long beginning of the world. Through the First Age and the Second and Mahal's blessing would have continued unchanged evermore, but in the Third Age Mahal looked upon his newest children and found himself confused.

The Valar had never seen such tangled spirits, their threads of fate woven as tightly as any two he'd ever forged. But while all other dwarrows were bound heart and soul together these two most assuredly were not, they were bound by umùrâd alone. Their heartstrings spun off, stretching far past the borders of his domain in a snarl of thread and fate that defied his skill to read. Mahal could not untangle either's kurdu without slicing through the strands, but he also did not know if they should be unwound at all. So he took his wayward children and he brought them to Vairë, the Weaver, and asked her to read their fates.

Vairë looked down upon the knotted lives that Mahal held and her eyes filled with wonder and with pain.

"Never have I seen souls with threads like these, never amongst all the lives of Middle Earth, but though the web looks tangled it has a pattern that is fragile and is strong." She told him as she read the strands that Mahal showed her.

"You cannot cut the soul thread for it is wound too tightly and if you try these children will die broken and in grief, but the choice about the heartstrings is up to you alone. If you sever the strands that pull them from their people, your children will burn their life-spark quickly and their karûd will never flower. The world will grow dark with death and destruction, but there will be light at the end of it all.

Yet if you leave them as they are woven I cannot say, for that future spins upon a chasm's edge. All I know is that they will find either our salvation or our doom when they meet their karûdulganaz, but salvation is the harder path to walk."

Mahal heard her words and was filled with grief for he wished to bring no pain upon his children. Yet he knew what Manwë would say, that he should sever their heartstrings and let them suffer for the surety of a better world. How could he risk all the peoples of Middle Earth on the hope that these two would choose salvation, risk everything so that they'd have the chance to love? But Mahal was not Manwë who claimed to speak for the greater good, nor was he Melkor to twist pain for his own ends. At heart the Vala was a Maker, not a Destroyer, and he could not bring himself to harm his children no matter what the cost.

So Mahal decided to trust in his creations, trust that he had built his dwarrows well, and he whispered his blessing upon these tangled threads before he released them to their fate.

\---

Thus it was on Middle Earth that two dwarrows were born a scant five years apart. Like all their people they bore Mahal's blessing branded on their wrists, but these brothers also carried another on their hearts, hidden from view until the time was right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some neo-Khuzdul translations for you.
> 
> umùrad/umùrâd - soul/souls  
> kurdu/karûd - heart/hearts  
> umùradulganaz - soul of god's origin (i.e. soul-mate)  
> karûdulganaz - hearts of god's origin (i.e. heart-mates)


	2. In Which Soulmates are Not Lovers

There was great rejoicing and great sorrow within the House of Durin when its youngest heir was born with runes wrapped around his wrist. At the moment of his birth, his name appeared on another's skin as well and the sons of Dís were bound with Mahal's blessing forevermore.  
  
There was joy because dwarf children are a rare and precious treasure, even more so when kin to a much beloved king. Also that both their princes would grow alongside their umùrâdulganaz was the luckiest of omens, and Durin's Folk met this miracle with a joyful celebration that lasted days on end.  
  
However, there was also grief at the knowledge that the truest line of Durin would end upon the princes' deaths, for Thorin's umùradulganaz had been lost when Erebor fell so many years before. It was a wonder that their king still lived with such a scar upon his heart and none of his people begrudged his empty bed. However, now that his heirs were bonded to each other, Thorin's hopes for the future had been dashed and the idea that Dáin would one day rule their people galled at the royal family's pride.  
  
Yet Mahal's blessing could not be questioned and their Maker had never chosen wrong, so Dís took comfort in the fact that her boys would always have each other and eventually the joy won out.  
  
\---  
  
Thus Fíli and Kíli grew up bright and happy children, who indeed were never far apart. Where one went the other was sure to follow and when one found trouble, the other was always there to pull him out.  
  
Dís often wanted to tear out her hair in exasperation at their antics for her sons shared a trickster's soul and a master's skill at flimflam and they were wild terrors when they were young. The brothers soon learned that few could resist two sets of wide and pleading eyes and they perfected their innocent faces after the first time that Thorin caught them playing with his swords and they had to clean the stables for a month.  
  
From that point on whenever Fíli and Kíli caused mischief and mayhem they were careful to have an alibi, and while everyone often knew they were the culprits, no one could prove it beyond a doubt. The terrible duo was always quick to point out that someone else could have tied their guards' beards together while they slept or convinced visiting human dignitaries that the proper dwarvish greeting was to spin around three times, though their uncle laughed so much at the last one that he didn't investigate too hard.  
  
As they grew older, their jokes became more elaborate as simple pranks evolved into complicated schemes that required careful planning and perfect synchronicity. However, they were careful to never cause real harm and even as she despaired of reigning them in, their mother had to marvel at their skill. With Fíli's gift for scheming and Kíli's reckless daring, the two were truly unstoppable and everyone learned to beware their laughing grins.  
  
No one was safe from their pranks, which Dwalin learned to his regret the day he took over as their bodyguard and forgot to lock his door. However, he had his revenge and the bright purple of his hair was almost worth it to see the lads still flinch years later whenever someone brought up cabbages.  
  
Yet for all their jokes, Fíli and Kíli had good hearts and they funneled this boundless energy into more serious pursuits as they aged and mellowed slightly. Watching them together, even those who had doubted Mahal's wisdom in depriving them of heirs had to admit that the Valar was right; the brother's were two sides of the same coin and the bond of the umùrâdulganaz obviously ran true.  
  
What Kíli designed, Fíli forged; what Fíli read, Kíli knew and when they fought it was as two bodies with a single mind. In all things they excelled, for each was skilled where the other faltered and together the brothers were far more than the sum of their parts.  
  
\---  
  
However, despite the truth of Mahal's blessing and the approval of their kin, Fíli and Kíli knew that they were different nonetheless. It took them years to realize it because on the surface they seemed like any other pair, gifted with the ability to know each other's thoughts and location, with skills and interests that fit together perfectly and a love that was as natural as breathing.  
  
So their first inkling that something was off was the day their uncle took them aside and explained the Talk to them together, complete with diagrams and a stick figure couple on which he'd drawn their hair. Fíli could only shrug at his brother's questioning glance and offer hesitantly, _'Maybe it's just more efficient this way?'_  
  
But neither of them could believe it and from then on things began to add up, little things that they had never really paid much attention to before. Fíli found that other dwarves would frown at him when his eyes wandered after handsome strangers, looking to his brother as though expecting him to mind. No one ever mentioned the idea that either of them might fall in love and when Kíli asked his mother if she ever wanted grandchildren, Dís stared at him as though he had gone mad.  
  
Yet despite these clues, the light of realization did not ignite in their minds until the brothers were finally nearing their maturity and their parents presented them with a suite of rooms that, while gorgeous, contained only a single double bed.  
  
 _'They expect us to do it!'_  
  
 _'What, with **you**? Why would I want to do that?'_  
  
 _'Don't ask me, your breath is terrible. Just smile and thank them for now, we'll figure this out later.'_  
  
The pair had always known that all the other umùrâdulganaz were lovers, at least once they were old enough to recognize such things, but it had simply never occurred to them that everyone expected this from them as well. It was not the thought of having a male lover that bothered the brothers or even the incest, because with Mahal's blessing no love could be taboo. They simply didn't want to and they had no idea why.  
  
A lack of love was not the problem because Fíli adored his little brother; he cared for him deeply and would have died for him without a second's thought. Kíli was his best friend and his eternal companion, the first one he turned to to share his joys and the one he knew would be there to ease his pain. However, despite this, Fíli was not in love with him, and his brother felt exactly the same way.  
  
Kíli knew that his older sibling would always be there for him, to support him through his failures and help to reach his dreams, just as he would stand with Fíli and catch him when he fell. Yet that was as far as it went because there was no desire for the other bound beneath his skin and the thought of laying with him seemed as distant the moon.  
  
So the brothers lay sprawled upon the single bed their parents granted them and they wondered why they never felt it. Why they took comfort in each other's warmth and presence but never felt what everyone else obviously expected: the need to stroke and kiss and fuck. But they had no answer and eventually Kíli tucked his head under his brother's chin and asked the question that lingered in the back of both their minds.  
  
 _'Do you think there's something wrong with us? Because we're not in love?'_  
  
Fíli could feel the worry rolling off of Kíli and was quick to reassure his brother just like he always did. _'Don't be stupid. We may be different but that doesn't make us wrong. There's no reason all umùrâdulganaz have to be lovers, is there?'_  
  
'I don't know. Everyone just seems to think that's the only option. It certainly explains uncle's talk though, remember?' He grinned when Fíli winced in old embarrassment before his mood sobered once again. _'But all the others are, except for us and the lack of desire can't be because we're related or they would have expected it; I mean I walked in on Balin and Dwalin once and they certainly didn't have a problem with the brother thing.'_  
  
 _'Thanks so much for that mental image,'_ Fíli poked Kíli in the head softly before continuing. _'And don't worry so much about it. We know Mahal blessed our souls truly and the other will come in time or not as he wills. Though maybe we shouldn't mention the issue to anyone else in case we're just late bloomers and I wake up tomorrow wanting to ravish you.'_  
  
 _'Eww, you better not.'_ Kíli laughed, his cheerful mood restored by his brother's teasing reassurance, and he settled down more comfortably as he finally drifted off to sleep.  
  
His brother followed him down soon after, drawn to slumber by the simply joy of his umùradulganaz's dreams. However, as the years passed and their relationship remained unchanged, strong as ever but still platonic, they couldn't help but wonder what exactly Mahal had in store.  
  
\---  
  
Yet it was not until the day that the elder brother reached his majority that they received a sign, and even that created as many questions as it answered.  
  
It began with a burning centered over Fíli's heart at the exact anniversary of the young dwarf's birth. Though there was no pain, the sensation left him breathless and when his knees grew weak he staggered and clutched at the wall. Kíli sensed his distress and was at his side in moments, sliding under his brother's shoulder to support him to their room.  
  
Once there Kíli sat him on the bed and hovered, his hands waving helplessly as Fíli gasped for breath. However, eventually the fire eased and the elder dwarf recovered enough to pull open his shirt and reveal a new mark slowly coming into view upon his chest.  
  
Black and grey, the image shimmered like a river on a moonlit night as it resolved into a great three-pronged claw that was ringed with a jagged foreign script. The brothers stared at the mark branded on Fíli's heart in shock until a look passed between them and Kíli brought his wrist up to compare.  
  
“It's the same,” he whispered. “Different script, but it's the same.” _'What could this mean?'_  
  
 _'I don't know.'_ Fíli answered before trying to explain what had happened to him. _'It feels like the bond of the umùradulganaz except that it's pulling on my heart instead of on our spirit. Like there's someone out there calling me and I'll know them when we meet.'_  
  
Kíli reached out and traced the claws gently with a finger. _'Well I guess this finally explains why we've never been attracted to each other. Mahal must have someone else in mind for you then, a kurdulganaz to be your love, though this is no script I recognize.'_  
  
Indeed it was not a language that either of the pair had ever seen before and although they searched through all the common sources they found no answers there. With each failed attempt, Fíli's worry grew because how was he supposed to find his kurdulganaz with a name he could not read as his only guide?  
  
Finally after several months, Kíli copied the writing onto a piece of paper and took it to Balin, for the old dwarf was a master of many rarer tongues and if anyone could shed some light upon Fíli's predicament it would be him.  
  
This time he went without his brother to the surprise of all who saw him pass, but the pair had agreed to keep Mahal's new blessing a secret from their people until they learned more of what it meant. However, when Balin looked down at the paper Kíli held and scowled, the young dwarf knew that the news would not be good.  
  
Not good at all because the steward's eyes hardened and his fists clenched tight as he asked the prince, “Where did you find this evil, lad? In what foul corner was it hidden?”  
  
At these words, Kíli felt his blood freeze in his veins and he knew that Fíli would feel his distress but he managed to keep his voice from trembling when he replied. “We were searching through some of the older archives and it fell from one of the books. What is the matter with it? Can you not read it?”  
  
“Nay lad and that is as it should be. None of the fair folk of Middle Earth would speak such a dangerous tongue, for that is orcish and no fouler speech has ever been transcribed.”  
  
Kíli made his excuses quickly and practically ran back to his brother, Balin's words rattling in his brain. He almost wished that he could hide them and spare Fíli the pain, but there had never been secrets between them. Indeed there could be no secrets between them and when he returned to their rooms, Kíli could see the knowledge of what he had learned staring out from behind his brother's eyes.  
  
So he held Fíli as he raged against their Maker and wept bitter, anguished tears. What kind of blessing could it be when Mahal tied his heart to one of their enemy? What kind of blessing when he tied him to a monster and for the first time the dwarf cursed the Vala's name.  
  
However, eventually Kíli felt his brother's rage ease and his tears stopped as the dwarf started thinking truly about what such a choice could mean. Surely Mahal would not do such a thing without a reason? Surely there must be a purpose behind this yearning that he felt?  
  
Finally Fíli raised his head to look up at his brother and Kíli could see the question in his eyes, the question he was terrified to ask.  
  
 _'Don't be stupid, brother. It's me and you always and forever, no matter what you choose. I will support you even if you decide to never speak of this again. You should know that because you'd do the same for me.'_  
  
 _'And if I chose to answer my kurdulganaz's call and see where it might lead?'_  
  
 _'Even then, Fíli, I'm with you even then. Just think, if this works out it could change our people's lives forever. Or get us banished, but we're not going to contemplate that, are we? There's no point in worrying about it before we ever find them and I know if I left you to your own devices you'd never manage that. Besides...'_  
  
He clapped his brother on the shoulder and grinned that irrepressible grin. _'You're going to need me if we're going to find a way to learn orcish, Balin seems to think that it simply can't be done._ '  
  
At that Fíli laughed, the foundations of his world settling back into place at Kíli eternal optimism. _'I guess we'll just have to show him that nothing's impossible when we put our minds to it, won't we?'_  
  
So they plotted and they planned and over time they found ways to reach their goal. Fíli searched through the oldest books to discover snippets of orcish writing here and there, while Kíli took the more direct route and started accosting travelers instead.  
  
The most useful were the rangers who passed through Ered Luin from time to time for in their long history of battle they had picked up enough of the language to teach the dwarves the basics. If those basics mostly had to do with blood and war as opposed to matters of the heart, then that was the price they had to pay.  
  
However, their best resource appeared through sheer dumb luck and perhaps that was a sign that Mahal approved their quest. For it was rare that an orc or goblin would be taken captive, neither side was in the habit of showing mercy in their wars, but this time someone thought that information was more important than revenge.  
  
The new prisoner was a truly grotesque example of its kind both in mind and body and Fíli nearly quailed at the thought that the one he searched for could be just the same. However, while he was busy panicking, Kíli quietly made a deal and then smacked his brother out of his hysteria. Soon enough the princes were taking lessons whenever they could, expanding on their orcish in exchange for supplying food and other luxuries. While the orc was frustratingly illiterate and obviously thought that they were mad, under his tutelage their grasp of the spoken language grew in leaps and bounds.  
  
Thus they were well on their way to preparing for the future by the time five years passed and it was Kíli's turn. This time they recognized the signs, so when a mark bloomed upon his heart in a painted splash of flame and flowers Fíli was there to hold his brother tight and support him through the change. He helped him come to terms with the new ache that filled his being and comforted Kíli when the dwarf looked down upon his chest and cried out in frustration.  
  
“Oh come on! That's not even a language this time!”  
  
But Fíli was there to remind his brother that Mahal seemed to have a sense of humor when it came down to their lives, and he promised that they'd weather this challenge together just as they had tackled all the rest.

 


	3. In Which Flowers Are a Language

Bilbo Baggins had always been a very strange hobbit, far too interested in learning about the world outside the Shire. Whenever the young lad went running off into the woods to practice path-finding or bought himself another book, the older hobbits in his village just shook their heads and sighed.  
  
“It's all the fault of that mother of his,” they would mutter to themselves. “Bungo should have stopped her from leading their son astray.”  
  
In one sense the hobbits were right to blame Belladonna Baggins for her son's strange behavior, but they could not have fathomed the true reason for it because most hobbits put very little stock in the idea of fate. No busybody Valar was going to be mucking about with their lives, no sirree, and if such things cropped up among the Tooks once in a while, well no one would ever admit to it. Respectable hobbits married for love or for family, nothing more.  
  
\---  
  
So when Bilbo Baggins was born with dwarvish runes branded on his chest, his parents found themselves in a state of great confusion.  
  
While his father, Bungo, did appreciate the wilder side of his wife, he had married her after all, this was not something that he was equipped to deal with and he rather hoped that they would never speak of it again. A foolish hope, for one look at his spouse and Bungo knew that Belladonna Took was having none of that.  
  
“Don't be foolish, love,” She told her husband as they looked down upon their sleeping child. “I'm not saying that he has to marry this dwarf, though some of them are perfectly lovely folk. But we at least have to let him choose for himself and if he's going to make an good choice then he has to know exactly what he's getting into.”  
  
Bungo just sighed in response because he knew that she was right and so Bilbo Baggins was raised using two sets of customs and cultures instead of only one.  
  
His father taught him all the hobbitish ways: the importance of a good pipe and a fine meal, the various languages of their little corner of Middle Earth, how to whittle and how to bargain, and a love of green and growing things.  
  
In contrast, Belladonna searched throughout the West for books and teachers and passed on all she could find about dwarvish languages, their beliefs and the skills that they admired. Dwarves had always been a secretive race and there was little enough of such information, so his mother also gave him a love of adventure, her curiosity about what lay over the next horizon, and her proficiency with slingshots. Belladonna showed her son how to bring down a rabbit at fifty paces, how to ride a pony, and how to crochet, because some things were a mother's prerogative.  
  
Then, as Bilbo neared adulthood, his parents sat him down and explained the runes upon his skin along with the reasons why they had raised him in this manner. Although they were very clear that he was free to make his own choices, Bilbo already knew what he desired. As long as he could remember there had been a pull upon his heart that drew him to the east, never painful but insistent, and he knew that he would never be happy without knowing who was on the other end.  
  
So Bilbo meant to leave after he gained his majority, he meant to follow the tug upon his heart back to its source, and yet somehow he never did. There was always something else that needed to be done and with the death of his mother and father, the years just slipped between his fingers.  
  
Until one day the hobbit woke up and realized that half his life was gone and he had never even left the Shire. With that realization Bilbo began to lose hope that he and his heart would ever be united, though he kept up with his studies just in case a dwarf should chance to happen by. However, even that dream eventually began to fade as he grew terrified that even if they met his heart would be disappointed, for what dwarf could love a middle-aged hobbit such as him?  
  
So when Gandalf the Grey walked back into his life and told him that he had changed for the worse, Bilbo could do naught but agree. The hobbit **had** changed for the worse and the wizard was not the first to wonder where that adventure-loving fauntling had gone.  
  
 _He grew up. He grew up and found himself alone,_ Bilbo thought as he tried to block out Gandalf's tempting words and his offer of adventure. The wizard needed to leave so that the he could return to his quiet life in Bag End and keep denying that he'd ever dreamed of more. He might not be happy but he was content enough and the last thing he needed was some meddlesome magic-user digging up old wounds.  
  
Yet even after Gandalf finally left, the hobbit was unsettled and restless, feeling as if there were an itch beneath his skin. There was a strange sense of anticipation in the air that Bilbo could not explain and when he opened the door to see a dwarf - the **wrong** dwarf - standing on his porch, the runes on his heart pulsed with disappointment.  
  
 _Which is crazy; all this talk of adventure has addled your brain. It's only a tattoo, even if it's Valar-sent, and it's not trying to tell you anything._ Bilbo thought furiously to himself, but the hobbit could have sworn he felt a grumble of dissatisfaction when he opened the door again and Balin greeted Dwalin in his kitchen. _This is it, I've finally cracked. Everyone always said that I'd go mad one day and what other explanation is there for the dwarves in my house and the hope in my heart?_  
  
However, when the bell rang a third time, the hobbit couldn't stop the flutter in his chest and his protests caught in his throat at the sight that met his eyes. There were two dwarves standing in his doorway, he was pretty sure of that, but all he could see was the one staring at him as if all his dreams had just come true.  
  
“It's you,” Bilbo whispered when he met Kíli's gaze and then he fainted, for the shock was simply too much for him to bear.  
  
\---  
  
Kíli was overjoyed, and he would be even happier once his hobbit finally woke up. He knew that he was grinning like a lunatic but he really didn't care, even though he could see his brother laughing at him from the corner of his eye.  
  
 _'Oh shut it, you.'_ Kíli responded, hovering over Bilbo where he lay passed out on the bed. The dwarf had carried the hobbit into the bedroom after he had collapsed into his arms, leaving Balin to sort out the rest of their company, and they could hear the commotion from three rooms away.  
  
However, Kíli had far more important things than his uncle's quest on his mind right now so he just sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at Bilbo in fascination.  
  
 _'Look how small he is, and totally adorable,'_   he gushed to his brother while Fíli simply rolled his eyes.  
  
 _'You're going to be insufferable aren't you. One of those couples that are so sweet they make your teeth ache. But how did it feel anyway, to meet your kurdulganaz?'_  
  
Kíli thought for a moment, trying to figure out how he could explain. _'It's like...like coming home. Like how you're the other half of my being, except that this time it was our karûd joining back together and I do want to ravish him as well. So don't worry brother,'_   he continued, clapping Fíli on the back. _'Your orc is going to take one look at you and fall head over heels.'  
  
'That's comforting, I think,'_   Fíli responded wryly as his brother laughed.  
  
 _'Hey, if he doesn't, I'll be there to smack some sense into his head. And I'm sure Bilbo Boggins here will be there to help me out. I'm not leaving him behind now.'  
  
'Baggins, Kíli, it's Baggins,'_   Fíli sighed before adding pessimistically. _'And I don't know, he didn't seem all that happy to see you. Maybe he passed out because he was so horrified at being bonded to a dwarf.'  
  
'Don't say that!'_   Kíli turned to him with anxious eyes. _'He has to like me even if I did get his name wrong. I mean I still feel a faint tug but that's probably because we haven't consummated it yet or something. Oh my lord, what if he refuses to come along? Uncle will kill me if I tell him we're staying here so I can woo a hobbit.'  
  
'Easy, easy. Everything will be fine,'_   The other dwarf was quick to put aside his doubts and reassure his brother when he felt him start to panic. However, Kíli remained twitchy until Bilbo finally opened his eyes and gave him a brilliant smile.  
  
“Oh good, you're not a dream.” It was a valid concern since the hobbit had woken disappointed from many fantasies about how he'd meet his heart, though most were somewhat grander than reality. Yet, looking at the dwarf now Bilbo was sure that no dream could ever measure up to having Kíli standing there before him, not when he could feel the other's hope and wonder through their bond.  
  
All his fears of disapproval slipped away with that sensation, and the hobbit held out his arms to Kíli without thought, wanting to hold the other to prove he would not disappear. When the dwarf felt that desire, the last of his anxiousness also vanished and he was soon curled around Bilbo, chin resting on the halfling's shoulder and radiating contentment while his brother watched them fondly.  
  
“So do you have a mark as well?” Fíli asked curiously. “I've always wondered how other races did such things.”  
  
“Oh, well hobbits normally don't have anything at all- most of us don't think much of the Valar interfering in our lives, and fall in love on our own instead. But I was born with this,” Bilbo pulled his robe aside to reveal the brand upon his chest and Kíli traced it with reverent fingers.  
  
“Those are my name runes, just like the ones in Mahal's blessing. You would have been much easier to find if my sign looked like that.”  
  
Of course, then the dwarves had to tell Bilbo what exactly Mahal's blessing was and how the bonds of umùrâdulganaz usually worked among their people. The hobbit listened in fascination to Kíli's explanation, somewhat amazed that dwarves so easily considered these relationships a way of life. He had known that they were loyal to their partners from his mother's teachings but such intimate details of their culture had never been shared with outsiders.  
  
 _A proper hobbit would probably be horrified,_ Bilbo thought, knowing that his neighbors would never have accepted how the umùrâdulganaz ignored all of their taboos. However, with Kíli curled warm around him the halfling could only be grateful for this acceptance, because it meant that no one could deny the feeling in his heart. Although this sense of security was challenged slightly when the brothers showed him the names upon their wrist.  
  
“What? But I thought we were...?” Bilbo's voice was mournful and he stiffened in Kíli's arms, but the other just held him tighter as he rapidly explained.  
  
“It's all right, we are. My brother and I have never been normal. Fíli is my umùradulganaz and I love him dearly, but unlike the rest, our bond has always been platonic and we seem to have karûdulganaz as well. Look.”  
  
At Kíli's urging, Fíli revealed his hidden brand and Bilbo looked at the harsh lines with interest as the dwarf continued. “Neither of our blessings are written in languages we can read, which is why I didn't find you sooner, but while we don't know whom it names, Fíli's is in orcish.”  
  
“Orcish?” Bilbo could not deny that this surprised him and the brothers watched him with worried eyes, afraid he would freak out. In truth the hobbit almost did, but he could feel his dwarf's uncertainty pulsing through their bond and he could not bear to lose Kíli over this. _Who am I to judge another's romance when I've been waiting fifty years to run off with a dwarf, a very nearly adolescent dwarf at that?_  
  
With this thought in mind, Bilbo reminded himself firmly that the brothers' umùrâd were bound together, and so he could hardly love Kíli without accepting Fíli as well. Thus, his voice was only slightly doubtful when he spoke again. “Well, if your bond feels anything like ours, your orc will be overjoyed to meet you. Though I can't imagine that will go over very well with your family, so, uh, good luck?”  
  
His reward was Kíli's brilliant grin and a rush of love across their link as the dwarf smirked at his brother. “See, that's just what I told him. And once we convince the orc, the rest will work out eventually because Mahal's blessing can't be challenged. So now that you've seen his, my mark is this, which somehow leads to you.”  
  
He unlaced his shirt and the hobbit felt his breath catch when Kíli uncovered the brilliantly colored tattoo of flaming blossoms on his chest.  
  
“Oh that's beautiful,” Bilbo whispered, before looking closer and realizing exactly what it said. “That's the old flower language, I haven't seen that in ages. Hobbits used it for courting in the past, only no one really practices those traditions anymore. I only know it because of my mother, but here's one of the flowers that represents love and there's fidelity and joy, and if you looked at their names in Hobbitish you'd find Bilbo there.”  
  
Kíli looked at his kurdulganaz in delight as his blessing was finally translated, although his joy dimmed slightly when the hobbit added, “I don't know about the flames though, that's no Shire art.”  
  
“You must just have two karûdulganaz, Bilbo and another.” Fíli interjected, speaking aloud for the halfling's sake. “I've wondered about the fire before but the only one who ever came to mind was Smaug so I let it be.”  
  
“Don't even joke about that!” Kíli replied, pulling the hobbit closer and Bilbo wondered at his distress. _Who the heck is Smaug?_  
  
“Am I joking? I'm bonded to an orc, I certainly wouldn't put it past Mahal to bind you to a dragon.” Fíli retorted. _A dragon! Seriously?_  
  
“Okay, fair enough.” Kíli sighed and then turned to look back at Bilbo, pleading in his eyes. “I'm sorry. I know this probably wasn't what you were expecting. If you don't want me I'll understand.”  
  
“My mother always used to say that the whole point of an adventure was that you never knew what you were going to get.” Bilbo mused aloud, trying to come to terms with these new revelations. “And you're attractive, and funny, and I'm pretty sure letting you leave would be like cutting out my own heart... So if you really want to tie yourself to a chubby, middle-aged hobbit, then I guess I'm yours, even if I might have to share with a dragon.”  
  
At his words, the brothers shot him twin grins and helped him stand, Kíli chattering away about all the adventures they would have. Bilbo still wasn't sure exactly where they were off to, but right now he couldn't be bothered to care. He was finally going to see the world just like he'd always dreamed, except that this time his heart would be there at his side.  
  
When the two dwarves introduced him to the rest of their companions, the hobbit could tell that their leader was not exactly impressed with his skills, and it was true that he'd let things slide in recent years. However, Bilbo was sure that he would be back in practice soon enough, and with the hobbit firmly on board it wasn't long before all the i's were dotted and all the t's were crossed.  
  
With their business completed, most of the company left Bag End to return to their own lodgings, filing out the door one by one until only Fíli and Kíli were still standing in the hall. Then Fíli gave his brother and the hobbit a wide grin, waving goodbye as he walked down the steps and called out with a laugh. “Have fun you two. Just remember that we'll be riding in the morning.”  
  
 _What is he talking about?_   Bilbo frowned in confusion at first but then Kíli looked at him with desire in his eyes and the hobbit blushed furiously as he understood. He could feel the other's hunger coursing through their bond and heat filled him as Kíli backed him up against the wall.  
  
“I was thinking,” The dwarf said with a sultry smile, “Seeing as we probably aren't going to see another proper bed for quite some time, we should take full advantage of yours tonight.”  
  
Bilbo was struck speechless at the thought, voice lost in a maelstrom of embarrassment and furious desire, so he responded the only way that he could think of, grabbing Kíli's neck and pressing their lips together. His mouth was soft and warm and though the kiss started off chaste, it did not stay that way for long.  
  
With a strangled moan, the dwarf pressed against Bilbo completely, the firm heat of his body enveloping the hobbit as he lost himself to the lust coiling within. There was nothing but the rasp of Kíli's stubble against his mouth, the sweetness of the hobbit's skin, and the dwarf's leg sliding securely between Bilbo's.  
  
Kíli pulled away long just enough to mutter, “Love you,” before capturing the hobbit's lips again, entranced by the way Bilbo fit against him. If he had thought about it, the dwarf would have worried about the size difference, but now all he could feel was how perfect the other felt within his arms.  
  
 _This is what I've been waiting for,_ Kíli thought as he lifted Bilbo higher, swallowing a moan when he felt the hobbit's hard length press more firmly against his thigh. He couldn't think, just rubbed against him frantically, both caught in a haze as the heat between them flared. Bilbo twisted in his arms, hooking a leg around Kíli's hip and trying to pull him closer. Pleasure took over his mind as he tried to relieve the fire in his veins, and he wanted more, more skin, more friction.  
  
The hobbit could only moan helplessly as he ground down against the dwarf, and when Kíli sucked on the tip of his ear, Bilbo came unraveled. Sparks ignited within him at the sensation and he cried out harshly, hand scrabbling against the wall as he came. Kíli could feel the hobbit's pleasure surging back across the bond, and when it engulfed him, he gasped and fell.  
  
\---  
  
Bilbo felt amazing, tired but blissed out, his skin tingling where the dwarf was slumped against him. Though he could have done without the mess in his trousers, he was feeling too giddy to mind it much, and he nudged Kíli gently to see if he was conscious.  
  
“Wow, just wow,” the dwarf murmured, and Bilbo felt rather smug at the awestruck expression on his face. Though he half wanted to protest at the loss of warmth when Kíli pushed himself upright, the hobbit decided that it was acceptable if his heart kept looking at him with such gobsmacked delight. However, eventually the dwarf got his thoughts together and held out a hand to his kurdulganaz.  
  
“As mind-blowing as that was, I think I mentioned something about a bed before we got distracted.” Kíli joked with a crooked grin.  
  
“I do believe you're right,” the hobbit answered, taking his hand and leading him back down the hall. When they entered his bedroom, Bilbo kicked the door closed behind them and then asked with a smirk, “Shall we get you out of those wet clothes? I don't want you to catch cold.”  
  
The dwarf gaped at the hobbit for a second before collapsing against him in laughter. “Oh Valar, that was terrible,” he gasped through his guffaws. “I think we're going to get along just fine.”  
  
“Yes, I think we will. But I was serious about the clothes. You made me all sticky and gross.”  
  
“Well, we can't have that, can we? ” Kíli's tone was teasing as he started untying Bilbo's robe, slipping it off the halfling's shoulders and tossing it aside. “How can I possibly make it up to you?”  
  
The heat was back in the dwarf's voice and Bilbo blushed again, suddenly feeling self-conscious as the other ran his hands beneath his shirt and pulled it over his head. He knew that Kíli was hardly going to reject him now, but he still couldn't meet the dwarf's eyes as he stuttered. “I- I can think of a few things. Bu- But I've never done any of this before.”  
  
“Never?” Kíli asked, surprised that such a cute hobbit had not had other lovers in the past. But when Bilbo just shook his head, and mumbled, “I was waiting for you,” the dwarf felt a surge of possessiveness. The hobbit was **his** , his lover, his kurdulganaz and Kíli would be the first and only one to touch him like this.  
  
“I've been waiting for you too,” Kíli told him and when Bilbo looked up he smiled at him reassuringly. “So we'll just figure things out together.” Then his grin turned wicked as he slowly walked the hobbit over to the bed and sat him down. “However, uncle's talk was **really** thorough, and there's something that I've been dying to try.”  
  
Bilbo squeaked in embarrassment as the dwarf tugged off his trousers, leaving him bare beneath the other's gaze. However, Kíli didn't seem to mind his lack of muscle and just ran his hands across the hobbit's skin with obvious enjoyment before kneeling between his legs.  
  
The dwarf could feel Bilbo's confusion so he patted his thighs gently, eyes locked on the tantalizing sight before his eyes. Kíli supposed that by dwarven standards the hobbit's cock could be considered small, but it was proportionate to his stature and he thought that it looked perfect. Bilbo was only half hard after their earlier exertions but his length was swelling quickly under Kíli's admiring stare, jutting up proudly between his legs.  
  
“Oh just do something already,” the hobbit cried out in exasperation when the dwarf didn't move, flushing again as Kíli met his eyes. He would have to do something about that self-consciousness eventually, but for the moment he thought that the way Bilbo's blush spread all down his body was simply adorable.  
  
However, the dwarf decided to take pity on the hobbit, leaning forward and licking a wet stripe up his cock from base to tip. When Bilbo keened and fell back against the bed, Kíli did it again slower, savoring the salty taste upon his tongue. He teased his lover, stroking his length with one hand and thumbing lightly over the weeping tip while he sucked a mark into the skin of the hobbit's inner thigh. Then finally when he was shaking beneath his hands, Kíli took Bilbo's cock into his mouth, engulfing him completely.  
  
“Fuck!” The hobbit cried out at the wet heat enveloping his length, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the the dwarf on his knees before him. _Yup, just the right size_ , Kíli thought in satisfaction as he nuzzled at the hobbit's groin, breathing in the musk of his arousal.  
  
He drew up slowly, swirling his tongue around the tip of Bilbo's cock before sliding back down again, and when the dwarf hummed in pleasure, the hobbit threw back his head and screamed. Kíli didn't let him catch his breath, just sucked harder as he bobbed his head, bringing one hand up to fondle Bilbo's balls while the other gripped his hip to hold him down.  
  
Though it took supreme willpower, the dwarf left his own aching length alone, instead focusing on the emotions he could feel radiating from the hobbit. With their bond everything Bilbo felt was echoed back to Kíli and the dwarf used this knowledge to bring his lover to new heights.  
  
Everything was sensation, just heat and pressure and the stroke of skin on skin, and when he thought that he couldn't take anymore without dying, Kíli deep-throated the hobbit's length and hummed again. This time Bilbo screamed the dwarf's name as he came abruptly, spilling into the other's mouth and Kíli swallowed as much as he could before wiping off his lips.  
  
“So is it my turn to touch you now?” Bilbo asked when he had finally caught his breath. He could see the dwarf's cock, dark and thick where it protruded from his pants and he found that he wanted it desperately. So he pulled Kíli up and kissed him again, sucking the remnants of his seed from his mouth while the hobbit's hands slid down the other's chest toward his goal.  
  
“You can touch me whenever you want,” the dwarf promised fervently when they broke for air and the night passed quickly as the new couple loved and laughed for hours before the dawn.  
  
When Bilbo woke up, warm and whole in Kíli's arms, he looked at the sleeping dwarf fondly and thought, _Whatever fate brings, this is worth it_. Indeed it was and despite the trials that were to come, the hobbit never had cause to change his mind.

 


	4. In Which Defiling is Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't decide if I should be warning for orc sex or not, so just consider yourselves informed. But if that truly weirds you out, it's easy enough to skip.

Fíli had been right and the hobbit and his brother were one of those disgustingly sweet couples, the kind that made him want to roll his eyes. But at the moment he'd give anything to be watching them coo nonsense at each other while he reassured the rest of the company that he really didn't mind, instead of racing down a mountainside with a warg pack on their tail.  
  
Unfortunately, dwarves were built for endurance not for speed and when Fíli looked back he could see that the creatures were gaining on them rapidly. The others must have seen this too for he heard Gandalf yell at them to climb and the dwarf swore that the wargs snapped at his heels as he leaped into the trees. Fíli could feel that Kíli and Bilbo were safe and when he looked around, he was relieved to see that the rest of the company was accounted for as well, though the dwarf knew that they were not out of danger yet.  
  
However, danger was suddenly the last thing on Fíli's mind when there was a commotion among their enemies and an orc rode into view on a warg as white as fallen snow. He was enormous and pale and he sneered down at the trapped dwarves with the utmost contempt in his eyes.  
  
When his uncle saw the orc, Thorin whispered, “Azog?” and his shocked gasp was mirrored by Fíli's own surprise. For at the sight, the mark on the dwarf's chest began burning fiercely and his kurdu cried out fiercely for its mate. He felt both exalted and horrified as he recognized the sensation and the two sides of him warred within his heart.  
  
On one hand, this was Azog the Defiler, who had vowed to kill his family and murdered his great-grandfather, and the proper dwarf within him shied violently away. But the orc was also his kurdulganaz, and Fíli knew in his bones that it must be him or no one.  
  
 _'Brother?'_   Kíli asked worriedly, feeling his distress.  
  
 _'It's him,'_   Fíli replied, gesturing helplessly at the orc who stood before them. His brother made a startled noise next to him and the dwarf knew that he needed to make his decision soon as Azog muttered something about the scent of fear. _At least I managed to learn orcish,_ he thought, fighting the urge to giggle hysterically.  
  
By then Kíli had recovered from his shock and Fíli went on somewhat desperately. _'We could just pretend that this never happened. Treat him as our enemy and never speak of it again. It would be easier for everyone and we wouldn't have to explain this mess to uncle._  
  
At these words, his brother's eyes narrowed and Kíli looked at him sharply. _'Is that actually what you want?'_  
  
 _'I- It would be easier.'_  
  
 _'Fíli, that isn't what I asked and you know it.'_   Kíli laid a hand on his arm and continued gently. _'I know you're panicking and I probably would be too, but easier isn't always better. So tell me brother, do you want him?'_  
  
Kíli always knew how to cut straight to the heart of a matter, and Mahal have mercy but Fíli did want Azog, more than anything. When he finally admitted this, his brother grinned at him brightly, all smiles once again. _'That's what I thought. So let's go get him for you.'_   Kíli declared and started climbing out of the tree.  
  
Fíli stared at him in surprise but what could he do other than follow his crazy optimistic umùradulganaz, so sure that together they could accomplish the impossible. Of course Kíli had always been right before, and the dwarf took heart from his brother's courage while he prepared for the most important conversation of his life.  
  
As the pair strode forward and passed Bilbo's perch, the hobbit hissed down at them, “What the blazes are you two doing? You're going to get yourselves killed.”  
  
“That's Fíli's orc,” his brother replied with a shrug and on hearing this, Bilbo sighed and climbed down to join them.  
  
“I suppose we might as well all die together if this all goes horribly wrong,” the hobbit muttered as he walked to Kíli's side, and despite the pessimism, Fíli was glad for the extra support. Everyone else had frozen in shock at their audacity, so the trio passed unmolested to stand before their enemies. Then Fíli braced himself, holding tight to his brother's shoulder, and finally met the Defiler's eyes.  
  
\---  
  
Azog had been having a fantastic day, ever since his scouts had brought him news of Thorin Oakenshield's location. The dwarf had escaped his grasp for far too long, but not this time. No, this time Azog would finally have the chance to take his revenge, to rip Thorin apart and feed him to his wargs.  
  
The thrill of the chase had the orc's blood up and he grinned toothily when he saw that his prey had nowhere left to run. Azog breathed in deep and the scent of fear wafting off the trapped dwarves was glorious, though there was also another smell beneath it that made his skin flush hot. But he shoved that from his mind to focus on the joy of taunting Thorin, and the orc was about to order his enemies' death when two dwarves did the unthinkable and climbed down from the trees.  
  
This brought Azog up short and he watched in confusion as another joined them, for this was not the plan. Unlike the rest of their company, the trio did not reek of fear, instead the orc found that the tantalizing scent he had noticed earlier grew stronger as they moved closer to his pack. Finally the dwarves stopped at the feet of his warg, and the blond one looked up and met Azog's eyes.  
  
His world shifted. Suddenly nothing was more important than the one standing before him, not even his revenge. All the orc wanted was to take the dwarf in his arms, to slaughter his enemies and lay their corpses in supplication at his feet, but he was Azog the fucking Defiler, and he knelt to no one.  
  
So he shoved those urges aside and plastered his best snarl on his face, taking some enjoyment from the fact that the dwarf looked as shaken as he felt.  
  
“Have you come to die little dwarves? Have you come to meet your doom?” The orc growled down at them, but all three stood firm beneath his gaze, though the smallest flinched back slightly. Then to Azog's eternal astonishment, the blond stepped forward and began to speak in orcish, heavily accented but orcish nonetheless.  
  
“No, we have not. I am Fíli, undag Jíli and I am here to claim what is mine.”  
  
“And what might that be?” Azog asked, unwillingly impressed by the dwarf's nerve.  
  
Fíli stared him straight in the eye and said, “You. I come for you.” The orc's pack started laughing at these words, but Azog knew that the other was not joking and he clamped down tightly on the sense of rightness that swelled within him now.  
  
“And what makes you think that I am yours?” He asked softly, refusing to be the first to break.  
  
“You bear my name upon your heart just as Aulë has willed it.” _He knows my mark? How? That brand appeared 82 years ago, long after I last fought a dwarf and let my prey survive._ Azog's eyes widened but Fíli was not finished.  
  
“Either prove me right or kill me now, because I bear your name as well.” The dwarf pulled his shirt aside to show the tattoo upon his chest and Azog felt a wave of hunger wash over him at the sight of his symbol branded on the other's skin. _**Mine.** Mine for all the world to see._  
  
Azog was a blade's edge from just claiming what was his right then and there when everyone else decided that it was time to get involved. His pack, simple fools that they were, started asking why the orc had tattooed his name upon a dwarf and he heard his lead scout mutter that he must have finally cracked. However, before Azog could deal with this insubordination, he was distracted by the vocal protests of Thorin Oakenshield himself.  
  
“What is going on here? And when the hell did you learn orcish?” The dwarf growled as he stalked towards Fíli, only to be blocked by the two who had been standing at his side.  
  
“You cannot interfere, Thorin. This discussion is between the two of them alone.”  
  
“What discussion? You should be cutting him down not having a bleeding conversation,” Thorin roared at the younger dwarf. “That's Azog the Defiler, the greatest enemy of our line. He killed your great-grandfather!”  
  
“When he attacked my people,” Azog growled, never one to let such insult slide.  
  
“You stole **our** kingdom!”  
  
“You abandoned it! And then Thrór thought that he could just waltz in and demand it back. He started that war and he deserved his fate; I only wish that I had made him pay more dearly for the blood he spilled.”  
  
As Azog paused to take a breath, Fíli's dark-haired companion interjected himself into the conversation, trying to stop their argument before it got out of hand. He pushed Thorin back and told him fiercely. “It doesn't matter, Mahal's blessing binds them and you may not interfere.”  
  
“No! This cannot be.” With every word, Thorin's voice grew louder and the orc was distracted from his anger by the horror on the dwarf's face. “You are already bound to each other and our Creator would never have tied Fíli to such a beast.”  
  
But the other dwarf just shook his head. “I know this will appall you, but we have always had a different path to take. Fíli and I are umùrâdulganaz, yes, but our karûd are tied to others, and Mahal does not seem to care what you desire. Show him, brother.”  
  
Fíli turned toward his leader and when Thorin saw the mark upon his chest, his eyes bulged and he turned scarlet as he choked on his own rage. However, the blond dwarf just looked at him apologetically and shrugged.  
  
“Sorry, uncle. But Kíli speaks the truth. Mahal bound me to Azog as truly as any bond between our people and I will not deny him. Perhaps it is time for this feud of yours to end.”  
  
“Uncle?” Azog was not expecting that.  
  
“Yes, does that matter?” His dwarf looked back at him and the orc stopped for a moment as he truly considered the question. Did it matter? Could he really accept this strange bond between them? Could he live knowing that some Valar had decided where his eye should fall?  
  
The thought of anyone messing with his fate made Azog furious, but he was not sure that he could deny the connection forever, or even that he wanted to. He knew that acknowledging it meant that he would have to leave behind his people, for no orc pack would accept him bringing prey into their midst, and Azog rather doubted that dwarves would treat them fairly.  
  
However, he needed no one's approval to live his life and as the orc stared at Thorin's apoplectic face, he realized that taking what he wanted would be the best revenge of all. Nothing would please him more than watching the dwarf choke on the knowledge that his nephew was mated to an orc, and he would choke, because Azog had no intention of being subtle.  
  
So the orc unhooked the top section of his armor and bared the dwarvish runes for everyone to see. At the sight, Fíli's eyes shone with a fierce exultation and Azog's world narrowed at the heat in the dwarf's gaze.  
  
“You **are** mine then. Will you join me in my war?”  
  
The orc had never expected to hear those words, for there were none among even his people who would have dared to woo the Defiler. Just this tiny dwarf, who had faced him without fear and offered him courtship in the language of his birth, and Azog answered with a feral joy growing in his chest. “I will battle at your side until there are none who dare oppose us and we will mate within a house built from the dead. Will you fight all challengers who think to claim your place?”  
  
“They will bleed beneath my feet until there are none who do not recognize that you are mine alone. Mine until I choose to grant you death.”  
  
“Yes, oh yesss. I look forward to that day and I will meet your blades with all the fury they deserve.” _That will be a day worth living for._  
  
Kíli's orcish was rustier than his brother's and the conversation did not sound particularly romantic, but given the way Azog and Fíli were staring at each other, he figured those might as well be vows. So the dwarf turned to the meet the shocked stares and questions of their company and glared them into silence.  
  
“This is Mahal's will and if you have any complaints you can take them up with him, because I do not want to hear it. You cannot deny their bond without breaking the central tenet of our people and if you hurt my brother over this, I will rip out your hearts and feed them to you. Have I made myself clear?”  
  
Though Thorin sputtered angrily and most of the others looked uncomfortable, beneath Kíli's threats they could do nothing but agree. His warning was reinforced when there was a shriek of pain from the rocks and the wargs leaped upon their riders and ripped them all to shreds.  
  
“They didn't like my choice,” Azog explained under Fíli's inquiring glance and the other dwarves shuddered as he bared his fangs and smiled. However, Kíli just met the orc's smile with a grin of his own and bowed shortly.  
  
“Time for proper introductions then. I am Kíli, Fíli's younger brother in umùrad and body and I would like to welcome you to the family seeing as uncle is currently somewhat indisposed. This is the hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, my kurdulganaz, and that's the rest of our small company. You know Thorin already and the rest can introduce themselves as they see fit.”  
  
When he finished speaking, the others just looked at each other uneasily and the awkward silence stretched on until Gandalf finally pushed his way to the front of the group.  
  
“This has all been a most fascinating experience, but in case you've forgotten we do have something of a time limit. So since it seems that we'll all be traveling together from now on, why don't we just mount these convenient wargs and be on our way.”  
  
No one was quite sure how to respond to that, since even Fíli was not enthusiastic about riding creatures who had been trying to eat them such a short time before. However, Azog found their unease hilarious and Thorin responded to his goading with predictable results. So it wasn't long before every dwarf had been paired up with a warg of their own and the company set off again.  
  
The miles passed rapidly beneath their feet for the creatures had been bred for speed and endurance so as better to hunt their people down. By the time the company neared Mirkwood's western edge, most of the dwarves had become resigned to their new mode of traveling, each adapting in his own way.  
  
Fíli and Kíli took to warg-riding with a kind of wondrous glee, while Bilbo had skill if not the same enthusiasm. Thorin refused to acknowledge his mount in any way, even when the warg retaliated by scraping him on branches, and Dwalin and his warg were locked in a three-day glaring contest. In contrast, Bofur and Ori made pets of their steeds, scratching their heads and giving them treats whenever the company paused, and the rest fell somewhere in-between.  
  
So when Gandalf received an urgent message and left them to face the forest without him, the dwarves were not as devastated as they might have been without such allies on their side. While Mirkwood was dark and ominous, most of the company were actually far more worried that the wargs would decide to eat them in their sleep than they were about any monsters in the trees.  
  
Indeed, the wood itself seemed wary of the creatures and the travelers saw no other life at all in the week it took to reach the other side. Riding out of the forest to see the Lonely Mountain rising in the distance raised everybody's spirits and as their journey continued only Thorin still glared every time Azog looked his way.  
  
The rest had begun to make overtures of peace toward the orc despite their misgivings, because Kíli had been right and to deny Mahal's blessing was to deny the marks on their own wrists. While the idea of both karûdulganaz still weirded many of them out, the company could not deny that their princes were much happier than they had ever seen them. Eventually it became almost normal to see the pale orc riding at Fíli's side or Bilbo curled up with Kíli against their wargs at night.  
  
\---  
  
Throughout the days, Azog and Fíli had also been learning more about each other, for despite their bond there were large cultural differences that they had to overcome. Yet over time they began to compromise so the orc learned that he was not allowed to kill anyone without permission but could threaten what he liked, and Fíli discovered that admiring another's battle prowess was the quickest way to make Azog growl with jealousy. However, despite such progress, the two had yet to consummate their bond, largely due to the dwarf's nervousness about exactly how this would work.  
  
 _He's freaking huge and that claw thing is bound to get in the way. But that strength holding me down and those muscles. Mahal, I just want to taste his skin. No, no, no, think of the teeth!_  
  
So Fíli had a habit of making overtures and then running away, much to Azog's great amusement. At first the orc had been surprised by the dwarf's actions, and surprised that he allowed them, for like most of his people he had been in the habit of taking what he wanted by force and giving nothing back. Yet this time he didn't want to and Azog finally decided that it was like stalking prey: the chase would make his victory all the sweeter.  
  
However, Kíli was getting tired of having to block out his brother's confused and filthy thoughts so he finally enlisted the rest of the company to help him get it done. The other dwarves fervently agreed that the two needed to work off their sexual tension because it was interfering with their comforting world of denial, and thus were happy to help.  
  
So when the company finally arrived at the bridge to Laketown, Fíli found himself bundled up within a sack and tossed to Azog as the rest of the dwarves booked it across the causeway. Kíli stayed behind long enough to explain to the orc that they'd meet up with him the following morning, before he left his brother with this threat:  
  
 _'I swear to Mahal if you don't suck it up and consummate your bond already, I am going to go mad. So if I come back tomorrow and you're still a virgin, I am going to lock you in a room with uncle and make him repeat the Talk he gave us so many years ago. That said, good luck.'_  
  
Azog could not explain the shudder of horror that went through the dwarf in his arms but he was hardly going to waste such a golden opportunity. The orc and his wargs traveled around the shore of the lake until they reached a more secluded area and then he released Fíli, chuckling at the disgruntled look on his mate's face.  
  
“I can't believe they did that,” Fíli muttered, brushing himself off. As he did the setting sun caught in the dwarf's hair and lit him like a halo, and at the sight Azog felt a wave of desire rise within him. The orc wanted to debauch his mate, lay him down and wipe out his innocence with the pleasures of the flesh and he decided that he was definitely done waiting for the dwarf to find his nerve.  
  
“They just want you to stop pussyfooting around. You're mine and I'm yours; it's not exactly hard to comprehend. If you're too much of a coward to back up your claim with action I can go find someone else who will.” Azog goaded Fíli, trying to trigger the audaciousness that he had so admired.  
  
The dwarf's eyes blazed at his words and he retorted hotly as he stalked up to the orc. “Don't you fucking dare. You belong to **me** and anyone else you touch is getting gutted. And I am not a coward...you're just very large.”  
  
Fíli trailed off as he realized just how close the two of them were standing, but when he tried to back away Azog stopped him, grabbing his arm firmly. _Not this time you don't. No more running away._  
  
“Yes, I am large. I rather thought you liked that, considering the way you stare when you think that I'm not looking.” The orc murmured, kneeling down to nuzzle at Fíli's neck and smirking when the dwarf's breath hitched. “Haven't you wondered how it would feel to have me wrapped around you, to feel me holding you down and be completely at my mercy?”  
  
At Azog's words, Fíli could feel lust rising within him, the hunger that he'd been trying to deny. Everywhere the orc touched him flushed with heat and he reached out to run his hands over the other's skin.  
  
It was surprisingly soft to the touch where not crisscrossed with old scars and the dwarf was having trouble remembering what he'd been so nervous about with his blood singing in his veins. Fíli could feel himself beginning to harden as Azog continued his filthy words and the dwarf dug his nails into the orc's sides and pulled him firmly against his chest.  
  
The slight prick of pain and the solid pressure of the other's body made the orc growl with desire as he bent his head and claimed Fíli's lips forcefully. This was no chaste peck but a demand and Azog drove his tongue into the dwarf's mouth, holding his head in place as he ravished him completely. Fíli could do nothing but moan in the orc's grip and think that this was exactly what he wanted: rough and hot and perfect.  
  
When Azog finally pulled away to let him breathe, the dwarf was hard and aching and he bit at the other's lip in frustration. But the orc just laughed and started unlacing the first of Fíli's many layers, nipping at each new expanse of skin at it was revealed and reveling in the way the dwarf would arch and groan when he drew blood.  
  
Fíli was startled when he felt the orc's teeth against his chest and his first thought was, _more,_ but the shock was swept away in the wave of desire as Azog bit him sharply over and over. He reached down and held the orc's mouth against his skin, panting harshly at the sensation of the other lapping at the cut.  
  
“Again,” he demanded and Azog was happy to oblige, scratching his claws down Fíli's side to mark him further and the dwarf nearly screamed when he followed them with his tongue. By this point the orc had removed all but Fíli's trousers and his mouth watered at the expanse of tanned skin before his eyes, pressing the dwarf back onto the ground with his body as he kissed him fiercely.  
  
This time Fíli refused to back down, answering the orc with equal force and the pair battled for dominance as they rutted together. Azog had to pull away to keep from losing it when the dwarf nipped him roughly, painting his lips with blood before licking it off slowly. But at Fíli's smug look the orc dug his claws into the dwarf's hip and ground down hard against him, determined to regain control.  
  
The combination of pain and pleasure made Fíli cry out, slamming his head back into the ground and when the stars disappeared from his eyes, Azog had somehow managed to strip him completely. He was staring down at him with a voracious look in his eyes, and while this would have made Fíli nervous earlier, now it just made his cock twitch expectantly.  
  
“Come on,” he growled, reaching for the orc again, but Azog caught his hands and pressed them back roughly into the dirt.  
  
“Gotta let me have some fun,” he told Fíli with a smirk before nudging his legs open wide and settling between them. The dwarf pushed against Azog's hand in annoyance but the orc didn't budge, held him down as though he weighed nothing at all. _Oh, Valar,_ Fíli thought, the proof that he was truly overpowered fanning the fire beneath his skin.  
  
He writhed desperately, trying to find any kind of friction until Azog took pity on him and swallowed his cock down. The dwarf bucked into the heat of the orc's mouth and he nearly begged when the other pulled off again, licking his way from base to tip.  
  
“Azog,” Fíli moaned in frustration, “Just do it damn you.” But his lover refused to comply, instead teasing with teeth and tongue, bringing him to the edge of completion without letting him fall.  
  
When the dwarf had become nearly incoherent with pleasure, Azog licked one last line down his cock and then bent farther to take one of Fíli's balls into his mouth. He grinned when the dwarf whined desperately, letting his fangs brush the other's skin just to see his cock jump in response. Then the orc tightened his grip and searched out his real goal, flicking his tongue against the soft skin of Fíli's entrance. The dwarf's wild curses were music to his ears and Azog pressed in harder, the resistance making his own length throb.  
  
But he couldn't push in far enough at this angle so he pulled Fíli up roughly, possession coursing through him at the dwarf's bruised lips and scratch-covered skin.  
  
“Wh- What are you doing?” Fíli asked, looking up at the orc through lust-glazed eyes. “I thought you were gonna fuck me.”  
  
Azog groaned at the knowledge that he'd turned the dwarf into this hedonistic creature, this shameless, debauched mess. But he kept himself under control and used his grip on Fíli's arms to nudge him over onto his knees as he replied.  
  
“Oh I am, I promise you. I'm going to fuck you so hard you feel it for days and you ache with the emptiness inside you. I'm going to claim you utterly, but first I have to get you ready.”  
  
The orc pushed the dwarf down onto all fours, pulling that firm ass into the air and grinning evilly before pressing his mouth back to Fíli's hole. Now there was nothing to stop him from driving in deep and the dwarf keened as he did just that, thrusting his tongue as far as it would go. Azog slicked the other with his spit as he teased along the edge of the clenching ring, the soft pressure driving Fíli mad.  
  
He could feel the dwarf's mindless lust echoing back across their link, but he damped it down to focus on the form beneath his hand. With every swipe of his tongue, Fíli lost it further and soon he was reduced to a sobbing mess, moaning Azog's name and trying to rub his length against his hand. But the orc held tight to the base of the dwarf's cock as he drove his tongue steadily into his ass, stretching him slick and wide.  
  
Only when Fíli finally started begging, pleading with Azog to let him come did the orc finally stroke him firmly, thrusting deep into the other's entrance and feeling it squeeze tightly around him as the dwarf spilled into his hand. _Soon now, soon._ He told himself as he sat back onto his knees and poured Fíli's seed over the small of the dwarf's back where he lay sprawled across the ground.  
  
Azog finished undressing himself then swiped his fingers through it, bringing one up to his mouth and tasting the salty liquid as he waited for his mate to recover. Finally the dwarf stirred and turned to look at the orc with one half-lidded eye.  
  
“Not that I'm complaining or anything, but I think you broke me,” Fíli groused with false annoyance, before starting as Azog pressed one slick finger against his ass. “Wh- What are you doing?”  
  
“Do you really have to ask?” The orc asked in amusement, stroking lightly around the other's fluttering hole.  
  
“But di-didn't you ha-have claws?” Fíli gasped out as Azog slid his metal arm under the dwarf's hips and pulled him back on his hands and knees.  
  
“Don't worry, they're retractable,” The orc whispered, nibbling at Fíli's ear as he slid one thick finger slowly into the dwarf's tight entrance. His mate's body welcomed the intrusion easily despite the constriction, pulling him deeper into his hot passage.  
  
“Ohhh,” Fíli moaned at the feeling of the digit pressing into him, before looking down in annoyance at the steel bar holding him up. “Wh-when we reclaim E-Ere-Erebor, I'm going to ma-make you a pro...per arm,” he gasped as Azog drew his finger out slowly and then plunged back inside.  
  
However when the orc added a second, Fíli couldn't manage words any longer as his cock swelled again, lost in the sensation of being spread open on Azog's hand. The orc's fingers were thick and wide but he had done his work well and there was no real pain, just the slow insistent stretch. The feeling of Azog's rough skin against his inner walls had Fíli gasping, and then the orc touched something that made his whole body sing.  
  
“Azog!” He cried out as white heat shot across his nerves and he pushed back hard into the other's hand, demanding more. The orc was happy to oblige, pushing three fingers deep into his mate as he leaned down to bite at the other's neck.  
  
Now there was a slight burn as Azog entered him, but the touch of pain just increased Fíli's pleasure and he moaned in time with the orc's steady thrusts, crying out raggedly whenever he pressed hard against that spot again.  
  
Finally Azog could take it no longer and drew his fingers out completely, Fíli clenching around him as though trying to pull him back inside. The dwarf groaned with loss at the feeling of emptiness within him, aching for something, anything to fill it.  
  
“Relax,” The orc whispered as he lined his throbbing cock up with Fíli's entrance, giving his mate no more warning than that before pushing in with one long slide. Azog did not stop until he was buried balls-deep, the dwarf stretched impossible tight around his dick.  
  
Fíli couldn't breathe at the pressure, the burn, as the orc's massive length split him wide. He knew that there should be more pain but all he could feel was Azog's pleasure mingling with his own, and the aching need for more. When Fíli finally gasped and began breathing again, loosening ever so slightly around him, the orc could not wait any longer.  
  
“Hold on,” He growled in warning, before pulling out and driving back in roughly, no gentleness left to give. Azog took his mate hard and fast, holding the dwarf tight as he slammed into him over and over. However, with every thrust Fíli just moaned louder, pushing back to meet the orc and force his cock in deeper.  
  
“Ha- harder,” he panted, the rough strokes driving him wild and making heat coil in his gut. Azog knew that he wasn't going to last much longer, not with the dwarf hot and firm beneath him and their pleasure resonating through the bond.  
  
He shifted his angle slightly and Fíli shrieked and clenched around him when he slammed into his goal. The orc's every thrust now hit that spot that made sparks shoot over Fíli's skin and he could feel that his mate was getting close.  
  
Just as the dwarf thought he couldn't take any more, Azog scraped his claws down Fíli's chest and the sharp pain sent him over the edge. His hole clenched tightly as he screamed the orc's name and came violently, clawing at the ground. The added pressure was indescribable and Azog slammed into the dwarf one more time, spilling his seed deep within his mate and biting his shoulder hard.  
  
When Fíli came to his senses he was slumped on the ground, Azog a heavy weight over his back. He groaned weakly as the orc's softening length moved within him, rubbing at his oversensitive skin. The bite on his shoulder throbbed and Fíli reached up to touch it carefully. His fingers came back bloody but he was no stranger to injury and the thought that the bite would scar just made his chest burn with a feral possessiveness.  
  
“Next time I'm biting you,” Fíli informed Azog, only half joking as he nudged the other roughly in the side. The orc stirred and pulled out carefully, making his mate gasp and his cock twitch again at the sight of his seed seeping out of the dwarf.  
  
 _Later,_ Azog promised himself, knowing that his mate was not as sturdy as another orc would be, _Though no orc ever took it so beautifully either, rough and hard and begging for more. I guess Mahal knew what he was doing after all._  
  
The orc grabbed a cloth from the pile of Fíli's clothing, dipping it in the lake and wiping them off gently, feeling rather self-satisfied at the scratches littering his mate's skin. Then Azog curled around the dwarf, pulling him against his chest and throwing his cloak over them both.  
  
“Sleep,” Azog ordered when Fíli made an inquisitive noise. “The wargs will keep watch.”  
  
So the dwarf settled back against his kurdulganaz, enjoying the feel of the orc's strong arm around him. For the first time since his majority the tug on his chest was gone, replaced by a feeling of warmth, safety and smug possession. _I could definitely get used to this,_ he thought as he drifted off to sleep. _I'll have to thank my brother in the morning._


	5. In Which a Dragon Finds His Heart

The Lonely Mountain was really quite foreboding, its peak looming high above the small party camped upon the lower reaches. They had been there for days already as they searched for the kingdom's hidden door, days in which the gloom never seemed to lift.  
  
Even Azog's wargs appeared to have lost their spirits, though that may have been the lack of prey for them to chase or the strange rumbling that would sometimes shake the ground. Thorin swore that these must be earthquakes for he refused to believe that Smaug still lived, and maybe he was right.  
  
 _Or maybe,_ Bilbo thought as he stared up at the mountain's peak, _Maybe it's the dragon._  
  
Indeed the second tug on Kíli's heart had grown stronger with every mile that they traveled, and the brothers were relatively sure that Fíli's theory must be right. Which meant that if Smaug was still residing within the Lonely Mountain, he was unlikely to eat the hobbit, unless he decided that he didn't want to share.  
  
 _Do **I** want to share?_   The hobbit wondered as he scratched his warg absently on the head. Bilbo had grown used to the idea over the course of their journey, but now that he was standing here with Erebor before him, he was starting to have his doubts.  
  
Not that Smaug would hurt his dwarf, because watching Azog with Fíli had destroyed any fear of that, but rather that there would be no place for Bilbo anymore. His old insecurities bubbled up within him and he wondered what a hobbit could offer to a family that Mahal bound to orcs and dragons.  
  
There was a noise behind him and Bilbo turned to see Kíli heading toward him, a smile on his face. “I've been looking for you,” the dwarf said as he wrapped one arm around the hobbit, kissing him in greeting. “Nori found the door- or at least what we're pretty sure is the door, so uncle's called everyone back. He wants to go over the plan for tomorrow.”  
  
“Oh. That's good to hear,” Bilbo answered weakly, pasting on a smile. However, he must have let something slip because Kíli's grin dropped and the dwarf frowned down at him in concern.  
  
“Are you all right? I know we hired you as our burglar but you don't have to do this, not alone.”  
  
But Bilbo only nodded and shoved his doubts down harder. “I'm fine, just a bit nervous maybe. And of course I have to do this, you know I'm the best at sneaking around. Besides what if you came with me and Smaug isn't your kurdulganaz? He might decide to eat us both, Fíli would freak out and then Thorin would probably goad Azog into killing everyone.”  
  
Kíli didn't seem entirely convinced but he allowed Bilbo to lead him back to camp and the hobbit was thankful for he did not want his fears to impede his dwarf from being happy. He only listened with half an ear as Thorin explained what he thought was the plan- they had decided not to tell him of Smaug and Kíli's bond until required- instead going over his own scheme for the morrow.  
  
However, as the hobbit lay curled in Kíli's arms that night, he was afraid to sleep in case this was the last time he ever felt so whole. While Bilbo was determined to do his part despite his insecurities, he did not know what he would do if all his fears proved right.  
  
If Smaug refused to share and Kíli chose the dragon over him, the hobbit did not think that he could bear to go back to his solitary existence. Not now that he knew the taste of Kíli's lips, the feel of his skin, and the joy of a reunited heart. So Bilbo prayed desperately that things would either turn out all right, or that Smaug would kill him and spare him that endless pain.  
  
Somehow the hobbit managed to fall asleep and keep up his facade of happiness over the long course of Durin's Day. Bilbo could tell that Kíli did not entirely believe it, though he was careful to only allow positive emotions through their bond, but the prince was kept busy with preparations and could not question the hobbit more.  
  
So eventually, the last light fell, a lock clicked open and Bilbo found himself before a long passage disappearing into the dark. Kíli reminded him one more time that he did not have to do this, but when the hobbit stood firm, the dwarf kissed him fiercely in farewell. Then Bilbo turned back to face the entrance and was just gathering his courage to step forward when a hand grabbed his wrist and he was pulled back into Kíli's arms.  
  
“What? What are you doing, love? I have to go.” The hobbit asked in confusion, but the dwarf just hugged him tighter.  
  
“Not until you listen to me. You've been thinking something weird all day and I don't like it.” Kíli muttered into his hair. “So you better come back Bilbo Baggins, you hear me? You are **not** expendable in the least, not to me.”  
  
At these words, the hobbit felt his heart swell and he wondered in astonishment how the young dwarf always knew just what to say. _But I guess that's why he's the one for me,_ Bilbo thought as he finally returned Kíli's embrace and let himself believe that this would not be the end.  
  
“All right, I promise.” He said, smiling up at the dwarf. “But now I really do have to go, because I have a dragon to fetch.”  
  
Kíli released him reluctantly but this time allowed a much happier Bilbo to walk through the secret door, vanishing into the passage and out of sight.  
  
\---  
  
It was low and dark within the tunnel, though there were torch brackets on the wall that showed where light once stood. However, the torches had long since crumbled into dust, so Bilbo waited only until he rounded a curve before putting on his ring and using its strange distorted vision to find his path.  
  
As the hobbit continued down the passage, he saw a faint reddish glow at the other end and as it brightened there grew a scent of brimstone and metal, like the aftermath of lightning on a stormy winter night. Finally Bilbo ran into a dead end, another secret door with light bleeding through around its edges, and he spared a moment to hope his ring worked on dragons before pushing it open and slipping through the crack.  
  
He found himself in an enormous treasure hall, large enough to fit nearly all of Hobbiton inside and filled to the brim with gold and jewels. However, Bilbo did not see Smaug until there was a rush of wind and a shower of coins slid down the largest hill, revealing part of the dragon's snout. He was buried almost completely beneath the treasure, but even so the hobbit had to stop for a moment and marvel at Smaug's sheer breathtaking size.  
  
 _That is going to be interesting if he is the one we seek,_ the hobbit mused as he crept closer. _But at least he's kind of pretty in a sleek and dangerous way._  
  
The magic of the ring washed most of the color from the world so Bilbo could not see the brilliant richness of the dragon's glittering scales. However, it also brought details into greater focus and the hobbit could see every razor-sharp inch of Smaug's fangs and claws.  
  
 _Mad, mad Baggins. The things you do for love,_ he thought as he crept forward on silent feet, trying to get a clear view of the fire-drake's chest and discover if he truly was Kíli's second kurdulganaz. But when Bilbo circled around he found that Smaug's body was still buried and he could not see the dragon's heart.  
  
While the hobbit stood there in consternation, trying to decide what he should do, he did not notice Smaug crack open one reptilian eye. _Strange scent, strange new scent. Not like the old echoes of dwarves within these halls. Probably a thief, it's always thieves who try to steal my gold._ The drake's thoughts were sluggish at first as he rose from his long slumber. _Trying to steal my precious treasure.  Precious, but such a poor exchange for what was promised. This though, this is **intriguing**_.  
  
The expectation of something different, something to break the boredom of his long centuries within the mountain had fire once again burning through the dragon's veins and he tracked the intruder carefully. Although Smaug could not see the thief, due to some foul magic, the drake could hear the soft slide of disturbed gold beneath his feet and he could smell him in the air.  
  
It was the scent that frustrated the dragon because while it was unfamiliar, there was something enticing on the air that made Smaug feel as if his long wait might be coming to an end. Yet despite this, the invisible burglar did nothing interesting; he did not even try to steal anything for the drake would have heard the clink of treasure filling greedy pockets.  
  
After nearly five minutes of this tedium, Smaug finally decided to take matters into his own claws and struck as fast as lightning. The thief shrieked as the dragon's great hand slammed down over him and he rumbled in amusement at the other's fear.  
  
“I cannot see you little thief, but I know that you are there. I can hear you breathing and your steps across my gold. I can smell your terror and yo-.” Smaug taunted his prey gleefully, hissing at the hidden form within his claws. However, when the intruder's scent floated across his tongue again, the drake finally recognized the trace that called out to him and his games were fast forgotten.  
  
Instead Smaug's eyes narrowed and he bellowed in anger as he shook the one within his claws. “Tell me burglar, tell me why you smell like the jewel of my heart.”  
  
There was no answer at first, just shuddering breaths and the stink of fear, but when the dragon let fire spill from his teeth, the other finally stammered a response. “Wait! What jewel?”  
  
“The jewel of my heart. The one I have been waiting for.” Smaug growled in annoyance. “But I find that I am tired of waiting, so tell me where to find the one I seek.”  
  
To the dragon's surprise the scent of fear suddenly diminished and his prisoner appeared again within his claws. The thief was a small creature, even shorter than a dwarf, but despite his soft appearance his voice was calm as he replied.  
  
“It seems we have a lot to talk about. But if I were to say that this jewel of your heart was a dwarf, what exactly would you do to him then? I would not see him harmed.”  
  
“Harm him?” Smaug was insulted at the very thought. “I would not harm him, even if he is a dwarf. He will be my greatest treasure and I have been waiting a lifetime to cherish him as he deserves.”  
  
“Oh good.” The burglar sighed with relief, before finally introducing himself. “Bilbo Baggins at your service and I can bring you to Kíli very soon...There's just one more thing.” He winced at the snarl this provoked and continued hurriedly. “How do you feel about sharing?”  
  
“ **Sharing**?! Sharing with who? Who dares to claim the one who is mine?” Smaug roared in fury, dragging himself free of his gold and rearing back to his full height. The thought of anyone defiling his jewel, owning his most valuable possession sent him into a frenzy and his tail lashed, carving chunks out of the wall.  
  
The fire-drake had enough sense left not to crush the fragile life he held, but it was some time before his rage faded enough that he could hear the voice that called between his claws. “Me okay, it's me! Will you calm down?”  
  
Smaug turned to look again at his captive, marveling at the thief's audacity. “You lay claim to the jewel of my heart? **You**?” The dragon hissed as he snaked his head around for a closer look at this Bilbo Baggins. “And if I killed you, would you still claim him then?” He began to squeeze his fist together to destroy this threat; there would be other ways to find the one he sought.  
  
However, as his talons began to press in around the burglar, the other shouted again and his words brought the drake up short. “You can't kill me! Kíli will hate you!”  
  
“Hate me? He cannot hate me, he is mine.” Smaug glared at Bilbo but the small one found courage somewhere and glared back into his eyes.  
  
“Yes, Kíli shares your heart. But he shares mine as well and if you kill me, you will cause him pain. Look.” The thief pulled back his tunic to bare a symbol on his chest, and Smaug twitched with jealousy when he saw the same runes that now graced his hide. _So perhaps this Bilbo does not lie, and I cannot kill him. But my jewel is **mine** and I do not share what I possess._  
  
The dragon paced angrily as he pondered the conundrum in which he found himself, stopping periodically to stare at his prisoner with an enormous baleful eye. Until finally, Smaug pinned Bilbo with an intense stare. “It seems that I cannot risk your death, so tell me, do you belong to my jewel as well or do you merely wish to claim him for yourself?”  
  
Now it was the hobbit's turn to be offended and he retorted angrily, “I do not like what you're implying, dragon. I am Kíli's as much as he is mine and I am proud of that.”  
  
“Then we can come to an agreement. My jewel is mine and you are his and so I will count you both among my treasures. Yesss, I believe that will be acceptable.” Smaug rumbled again, the enormous vibration passing for a laugh as his mood improved. “Now my Bilbo, take me to my heart.”  
  
However, the dragon did not give the hobbit time to respond before moving, racing through the halls of Erebor with Bilbo still held in his talons. All he could do was hope that Smaug did not forget about him and clutch the drake's claws for dear life. _Oh that's a long way down,_ he thought nervously as the dragon leaped onto the battlements and when Smaug jumped, Bilbo's stomach lurched and he was sure that he would die.  
  
Until with a jolt, the drake spread his wings and their plummet turned into a glide as Smaug aimed for the dwarven camp, rightly supposing that Kíli must be there. He dropped to the ground before the company, who had prepared for battle- weapons drawn and ready, wargs crouching down to pounce.  
  
“Wait!” Bilbo shouted, banging on Smaug's claws until the dragon released him and then running to stand before his friends. When Kíli saw him, the dwarf's face lit with relief and he and Fíli sheathed their blades. As the rest of the dwarves looked on in confusion, Kíli walked forward to stand next to the hobbit and laid his hand upon the dragons snout.  
  
“So it is you,” he whispered in awe, before smiling wryly. “Did you work things out with Bilbo, then?”  
  
“You could say that. I decided that it is not sharing, since both of you are mine. So do not worry about your heart.” The dragon replied, curling around his new possessions while keeping a cautious gaze on their companions. Kíli sent Bilbo a questioning glance to which the hobbit replied with a shrug and wave of reassurance. “Good enough, I guess.”  
  
By this time, the rest of the company had finally noticed the dwarvish rune blazing on Smaug's chest and realized what was going on. Most of them lowered their weapons hesitantly, still wary of the fire-drake's claws, but not Thorin, who threw down his sword in disgust.  
  
“Mahal's fury, nephew, are you and your brother bonded to of all my enemies?”  
  
“If you'd rather be eaten by the dragon, uncle, I'm sure he'd be happy to oblige.” Fíli put in snarkily as Azog grinned proudly at his mate, for there were few things the orc enjoyed more than seeing Thorin squirm and this was turning into a beautiful situation. He called his wargs back slightly and settled in to watch the drama, while the dwarf king's expression twisted in annoyance.  
  
“No thank you, Fíli, I'm rather attached to living. But I came on this quest to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, not play matchmaker for you and your brother.”  
  
“Do you mean that mountain?” Smaug asked, inserting himself into the conversation and nodding back toward Erebor. “Because you can have it back.”  
  
“What?! If you didn't want it, why in Mahal's name did you attack us? Why did you destroy Dale and murder my people?” Thorin shouted, but the dragon did not acknowledge his wrath. Instead Smaug just sniffed dismissively and gave the reptilian equivalent of a shrug.  
  
“I was angry. All dragons have a treasure who is the jewel of their heart and it was prophesied that I would find mine in the solitary mountain by the lake of drowning stars. Yet when I came here, I could not sense my jewel anywhere and in a fit of rage I razed the city that lay at your kingdom's door.  I might have stopped then, my fury spent in ashes, but your gold called to me with a seductive song and it soothed some of the jagged edges of my soul. So I slaughtered and I waited and I slept for many, many years. But now I have found my heart and I do not need your mountain anymore.”  
  
“So you're just going to hand back Erebor and my family's treasure without complaint, and what? Carry my nephew off somewhere?” Thorin asked suspiciously and this marked the start of a long series of negotiations.  Smaug's generosity did not actually extend to the gold within the mountain, only the stone itself and Kíli certainly did not want to leave everything behind, but after many hours they found a compromise that was acceptable to all involved.  
  
The dragon would keep Bilbo and Kíli's shares of Erebor's gold and his roost in the treasure hall so that his heart would not have to leave his family, but the remaining wealth would return to Thorin to divide and use as he saw fit. Additionally, for another ten percent of the kingdom's yearly earnings Smaug would protect the Lonely Mountain from invaders of all kinds.  
  
At this point, Azog decided to enter the discussion, stating that he refused to live side by side with dwarves or in their bright and open halls. While he would not force Fíli to leave his people either, the orc demanded the right for his wargs to roam the mountain's slopes and a space in the deeper tunnels that he could call his own.  Thorin balked at this at first- though he preferred Azog as far away from him as possible, he thought it was bad enough already that his people would be living under the dragon's shadow and did not want the orc within his walls.  
  
Yet between his nephews pleading eyes and Smaug's twitching claws, the dwarf eventually caved in, turning away so he did not have to look at Azog's triumphant grin. At least Thorin had reclaimed most of his family's treasure and the rest of the mountain for any dwarves brave enough to join this madness.  
  
However, his mood brightened greatly when Thranduil and the Master of Laketown came to take a portion of his prize and Thorin was able to meet them with Smaug crouched at his back. Their cries of historical rights soon changed to gasps of shock and, “By the Valar, he's tamed the dragon,” as the negotiations tilted firmly in his favor. His shark's grin widened when Gandalf returned with the news of an enormous army marching on their doorstep, for here at last was someone he could fight.  
  
\---  
  
The day dawned grey and cold and the dwarves were thankful for their armor as they waited for their enemies to arrive. Twelve dwarves, an orc and a wizard stood as bait to trap their foe, while their reluctant allies and their secret weapon hid up on the mountain, although their weak appearance was ruined somewhat by the pack of snarling wargs that paced restlessly at their sides.  
  
It amused Azog greatly to see these dwarves prepared to ride on wargs to battle, though he did not begrudge his pack their choice. This was his clan now, odd as it may be, and Azog was pleased that his wargs had adapted so well to the change. Indeed many of his beasts had grown fond of their strange riders and would defend them fiercely in the struggle soon to come.  
  
Azog's mate had been adopted by Ark'u'tuk, second only to the orc's own Kil'uz for size, and Fíli would be a glorious and lethal sight on the creature's inky back. Even those dwarves, like Thorin, who had more antagonistic relationships with their wargs were now united in a common blood-lust and while they would not be allowed to ride, the beasts would fight to the death beside them.  
  
Then the orc heard the sound of marching in the distance and as Azog warned his pack, the enormous army of their enemy swept slowly into view. However, the horde of goblins was brought up short by the sight of the Defiler standing with their prey. One orc, larger than the rest moved forward and called out to him in scorn.  
  
“We thought you were dead, Azog, but it seems you've just gone soft. Are you truly siding with these weak and puny dwarves against your kin?”  
  
To which the pale orc replied, “No, you fools, I'm siding with the dragon,” before calling out his battle cry.  
  
At this signal, Smaug rose from the Lonely Mountain, scarlet wings spread wide. The dragon roared as he took to the air and swept down on their enemies, Kíli and Bilbo armed with bow and slingshot on his back. As the dragon and his mates rained fire from above, the company and their allies charged forward in a line of blood and slaughter.  
  
Azog bared his fangs in a feral grin as enemy after enemy fell beneath his mace and he had been right about the death his mate would bring. No army could stand against the might of warg and fire and they sliced through their foe without mercy or reprieve. Even when Smaug could no longer burn without hitting his own side, the dragon was a whirlwind of teeth and tail and goblins died screaming beneath his claws. The lack of any real challenge was almost a shame, but Azog could see his same battle lust glowing in Fíli's eyes and he knew that the night at least, would be a struggle worth remembering.  
  
However, their foe still had such numbers that defeating them took time and it was many hours before the last of their enemies perished upon their blades. Some few survivors broke and ran and when Thorin would have chased them down, Azog grabbed his arm to hold him back instead.  
  
“Let them go. Let them go and spread the word of what happened here. This battle will go down in legend until the day the world is broken and all will think twice before attacking Erebor.”  
  
There was sense in these words and for the first time Thorin thought that perhaps his nephew's kurdulganaz was not such a beast as he appeared. Perhaps Mahal had been right in all his bindings and only with these strange blessings could the House of Durin reach its former glory. _Perhaps,_ but Thorin did not have to like it, so the recrowned King only growled and turned away.  
  
Yet Azog just smirked at the dwarf's discomfort and rode off to find his mate. He had plans for the evening that would be far more pleasurable than taunting his old enemy and he now had a lifetime of chances to get under Thorin's skin. Indeed, the future should be extremely interesting with this new clan of his, sometimes infuriating but never boring, and the orc would not miss it for the world.

 


	6. In Which a Mountain Burns

Over the years that followed, Erebor became known far and wide as a kingdom in which you could prosper, if you were only brave enough to try. For along with the rumors of wealth and riches there were the other rumors, the ones that made respectable dwarves shudder and travelers lose their nerve.  
  
It was whispered that Smaug the Terrible still dwelled within the Lonely Mountain and ate dwarves as a sacrifice for his protection, that orcs prowled the kingdom's deepest halls and that the entire royal family rode on the backs of wargs. Yet despite this cloud of suspicion, Erebor's population swelled with new arrivals for many found that the lure of wealth outweighed any rumored danger and the odd were always looking for a place where they'd belong.  
  
Those dwarves who came to find new lives discovered that King Thorin accepted any who were loyal and hard-working and that his heirs were just as strange as gossip claimed, bound by Mahal twice over as no dwarf had ever been before.  
  
The elder prince was rarely seen without his pale white shadow, the Defiler striding at his side, and few were truly comfortable beneath Azog's yellow stare. In turn the younger was married to a hobbit who seemed to be a soft and useless creature until one made him angry and the couple spent their nights sleeping by the dragon's side.  
  
However, one could get used to anything eventually and as the years passed the people of the Lonely Mountain stopped thinking of their princes and their karûdulganaz as any weirder than the rest. It became normal to see Smaug flying from the battlements, Bilbo and Kíli often mounted on his back. No one blinked when Azog laughed or leaned down to kiss Fíli's teasing mouth, though many of them still trembled when he grinned.  
  
As the princes were still together more often than apart, the guards would just wave when they rode out to hunt in the replanted forest, warg pack running at their side. These wargs were perhaps the most difficult creatures for many to accept since most dwarves rarely encountered Smaug or Azog, but were always in danger of turning a corner to see glowing yellow eyes.  
  
Yet it was hard to remain afraid of the wargs when the royal advisers played with them like pets and the beasts treated the dwarves' children like their own cubs. No one forgot that the creatures had been bred for death and destruction, but as long as they protected Erebor the mountain's residents were glad to have them and indeed nothing aided difficult negotiations like the warg snarling at Thorin's feet.  
  
All of this became ordinary and soon any visitor that balked was corrected firmly by the dwarves of Lonely Mountain. Their King had done quite well by them and they'd hear no word against his kin especially not when Mahal's blessing marked them clearly.  
  
While the Valar's choices were odd, none could deny that Thorin's heirs were happy and few wished to challenge this pillar of their faith. Thus those dwarves who refused to accept the princes' relationships as valid soon found themselves run out of Erebor, and any others with doubts quickly learned to hold their tongues.  
  
\---  
  
So life went on and it was good for many years. After the rout of the goblins, Bard of Laketown found his courage and asked permission to rebuild the ancient city of Dale at the Lonely Mountain's feet. While the men had been hoping to see the dragon slain, they had already lived in Smaug's shadow for generations and many of them decided that the chance of wealth was worth the risk. Thorin granted this request for he recognized the need for allies and before long another kingdom was rising from the ashes of its destruction. Even Thranduil eventually relented and while he would not visit the mountain when Smaug was there, trade with the Mirkwood was soon booming once again.  
  
Meanwhile the five who caused such consternation among strangers rarely paid it any mind for they were busy with their own lives. The princes and their consorts fulfilled their royal duties well, holding court next to their uncle as they learned the work of ruling and soon learned to take advantage of Azog's toothy smile when resolving tense disputes.  
  
During their free time, the small company went hunting and exploring across the land, either on the backs of wargs or on the dragon's wings. When the weather was nice, Bilbo dragged Kíli out on picnics and let him show off his archery, while Fíli spent hours forging his orc a gleaming mithril hand.  
  
Every year or two, Azog took his warg pack and went traveling, looking for others of his race who wished to choose a different path. Although his success was limited, over time he gathered followers and so there were a few orcs now working in the deeps of Erebor. During these trips, Fíli remained behind as necessary and he'd curl up next to his brother and his mates, the warm presence of his umùradulganaz helping to pass the lonely nights.  
  
Kíli did the same when Smaug and Bilbo flew back to the Shire so that the hobbit could reclaim Bag End, sleeping wrapped around Fíli as he had when they were children until the day that his karûdulganaz came home.  
  
In the end, the hobbit was glad that he made the trip despite the difficulty of this separation because Bilbo could not bear the thought of his family home in the hands of the Sackville-Bagginses and they were close to claiming it when he arrived. So with Smaug's aid the hobbit kicked his relatives out and gathered up the heirlooms that he most desired before asking the Thain to hold Bag End in trust for the next fauntling orphaned young. Before leaving again, the hobbit also placed a small chest of gold in the cellar and at the fire-drake's request, he tossed his magic ring on top.  
  
While something within Bilbo revolted at the idea of letting the ring slip through his hands, Smaug said that it smelled of foul sorcery and in his heart the hobbit knew that he was right. For as soon as they left the mountain, nightmares had come to haunt Bilbo's sleeping mind, dreams of conquest and destruction which whispered that the hobbit could rule the world with his dragon burning at his side.  
  
Yet he had seen enough of blood and so despite the struggle it took to remove it from his pocket, it was actually a relief to leave the ring behind. Besides Bilbo had a much greater treasure waiting for him back in Erebor and his action made Smaug happy; the hobbit would have paid a much greater price than one small ring to keep that peace.  
  
For not even Mahal's Blessing could stop the group from fighting now and then and the bonds between their karûd often just made their words cut deeper. Yet eventually they learned to deal with it, to resolve their arguments before they went too far and the fire-drake torched another hall.  
  
When it became too much to stand, Fíli and Kíli would spend some nights away from the mountain to fight and vent and just be brothers, and they were always much happier when they returned. Their lovers in turn got quite good at pinocle and talked out their issues over vicious hands of cards which Bilbo always seemed to win. Azog was sure that he was cheating somehow and he gained great admiration for the bravery it took to deceive a dragon.  
  
However, they huddled close together within Smaug's protective claws when the worst shock came, the day they realized that all of them were aging at the dragon's glacial rate. This was both miracle and disaster because while the thought of surrendering their karûdulganaz to time was far too much to bear, neither of the dwarves wanted to rule on in perpetuity as all they knew was lost.  
  
Yet how could they step down and let Dáin claim their family's kingdom? Dáin who still dreamed of being named the Dragonslayer.  
  
The group held these worries close to their heart while they struggled to find an answer because they did not wish to make others share their burden. But they came no closer to an solution because neither Smaug nor Azog could accept another touching what was theirs. So the day Thorin announced that he had decided to remarry in a political alliance, his nephews were filled with a wary hope and they cheered with the rest when he chose a proud dwarf woman whose umùrad was as broken as his own.  
  
Everyone knew that this was not a love match but Mahal blessed their lonely hearts nonetheless and Thorin's lady bore a son marked with Dwalin's daughter's name. The celebration lasted for a week as the kingdom rejoiced that the line of Durin would go on, and the princes were the happiest of them all for now they were free to leave when the weight of time demanded.  
  
It seemed that this new golden age of Erebor would last forever, but this was not the case and they watched as a darkness appeared to spread across the land. While this evil did not yet dare to challenge the Lonely Mountain, tales came from their far kin that spoke of foul creatures in the deeps and war upon the land and Thorin warned his nephews that they could not stand alone forever.  
  
\---  
  
Thus, when Rivendell called the free peoples of Middle Earth together, the Lonely Mountain answered its call and the Council of Elrond was interrupted by a late arrival.  
  
“We may not be able to walk into Mordor but we can fly, and I would defy even Sauron to keep us from Mount Doom.” A deep voice said and everyone turned to look at the dwarf striding down the steps, an armored hobbit at his side.  
  
Many eyes widened in recognition but not all, and it was Boromir of Gondor who frowned down at them and scoffed. “And who are you to promise such a thing? I have seen the might of Mordor and it should not be so easily dismissed.”  
  
“Kíli, son of Jíli, at your service. This is my kurdulganaz Bilbo Baggins and we are here to represent the King Under the Mountain. We would have been here yesterday but we were unavoidably detained. Did you know that there was a balrog in the depths of Khazad-dûm?”  
  
“There **was** a balrog?”  
  
“Yes. It seems that even shadow and flame can be burned by dragon fire so Durin's Bane has slunk back into the dark to lick its wounds while Balin son of Fundin is now crowned Lord of Moria.”  
  
These words caused a great hue and cry among the members of the Council as those who knew of the couple muttered and those who didn't wondered just what was going on. However, eventually Elrond and Gandalf raised their voices together and got the din to cease.  
  
“We will discuss the situation in Moria later, but today we are here to speak of the Ring. Kíli, I believe you had something to add?”  
  
“Yes, he plans to magically grow wings and fly over Sauron's defenses as though they were not there.” Boromir interjected sarcastically, but the dwarf just grinned as the hobbit leaped to speak against this slight.  
  
“I see that you haven't heard of us. Are the Stewards of Gondor taught so little now or are you a special case?” The man sputtered angrily as Bilbo continued in a slightly softer tone.  
  
“Nevertheless, I suppose we can forgive your ignorance since there are so many rumors of our lives these days, and the truth can easily be dismissed if you have not seen it for yourself. But while we do not take Mordor lightly, we also do not lie. If this Council will allow it, Kíli and I will fly my old ring to Mount Doom so that it may be destroyed and the evil of Sauron be wiped from Middle Earth.”  
  
Despite his words, the men did not lose their disbelief and the argument continued to rage on until Kíli finally lost his temper and called down Smaug to make his point. The dragon dropped from the sky and landed delicately in the clearing without damaging house or flower as he wrapped possessively around his living hoard. He had only grown over the years and at the sight of him crouching there, mithril armor gleaming on his chest, all objections died.  
  
“Let us take the high road to strike swift and sure at the heart of our enemy before Sauron knows that we are there. My brother waits outside Rivendell with Azog and his pack and they will travel low with any who will join them, sweeping East to protect the people and end Saruman's choking hold upon the land.  We do not have time for old hatred and divisions anymore and if you choose to look only to your own defenses then each of your kingdoms will fall in turn as the might of Mordor overwhelms your people. Your lands will run red with the blood of your slain, unless we break Sauron's power now.”  
  
No one could argue with the truth of Kíli's words and so the next morning a fellowship left Rivendell to act as a decoy to draw Sauron's watchful eye. The elder dwarf prince and his warg pack met the companions at the border and traveled by their side.  
  
While many of the fellowship were wary of this alliance, the beasts appreciated the exercise and Azog found great joy in proving himself superior to Saruman's fighting Uruk-Hai. In truth, the pale orc and the wargs saved their companions more than once and so by the time the last foe fell, there were stranger friendships formed than that between Legolas of Mirkwood and his dwarf.  
  
However, while the War of the Ring was a war in truth, it was not one that devoured kingdoms for its most important battle was fought on dragon wing. When Nazgul met fire-drake in the skies above Mount Doom, the clouds blazed as the dark knights of Mordor finally met their match. The battle raged for hours as the Nine fought One and his karûdulganaz, but when the last body fell it was Smaug who roared triumphant in the end.  
  
So the Ring was returned to the mountain from whence it came and its destruction buried Mordor beneath the fires of Mount Doom. Its bearers became the stuff of history and of legend, as did all those who stood against the darkness to fight for the fate of Middle Earth. But only the dwarves knew the truth behind the myth and remembered two young princes who had the courage to choose the harder path and look past their old hatreds to find an unexpected love.  
  
Only the dwarves knew that this courage was what made them heroes, not their name or blood or some forgotten virtue, and it was the bonds of kurdu and umùrad that gave them the strength to confront the source of evil and with Mahal's Blessing triumph.  
  
But only Durin's Folk, the Sigin-tarâg, knew that the Princes of Erebor still lived, spending out their days in happiness and laughter with the ones who made their hearts complete.

  
  
_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> Some neo-Khuzdul translations for you.
> 
>  _um_ _ù_ _rad/umùrâd_ \- soul/souls  
>  _kurdu/karûd_ \- heart/hearts  
>  _umùradulganaz_ \- soul of god's origin (i.e. soul-mate)  
>  _karûdulganaz_ \- hearts of god's origin (i.e. heart-mates)


End file.
